


can't you see yourself by my side

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Masturbation, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: All while he desperately tries to not pay special attention to Keith. He makes it difficult. He never turns in homework, routinely shows up to class late, but always manages to ace his quizzes. Shiro struggles to keep his eyes off of him, tries not to stroke the kid’s ego in the middle of class. But, well, that’s his job. Picking out of the crowd the kids that deserve grants, competitive programs--special attention. If only that were the kind of special attention he pays toward Keith.~Or, Keith is a freshman in college that causes lots of trouble for Shiro.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	can't you see yourself by my side

Shiro manages to make it to his first class of the quarter early. It’ll probably be the one time he’ll be at the front of the room, setting up his laptop and preparing his lesson materials before his students arrive. He tries to make a good impression, though, smiling at the students who shift nervously in the front row and scoping out the ones who sit as far away from him as possible. More than anything, he reserves judgements as much as he can. A student being late on the first day doesn't mean they’re trouble. A student who sits in the back and barely spares him a look still might pay attention. By the time class starts, most of the seats are filled and Shiro begins his opening lecture. He introduces himself as briefly as possible, tells them all to call him by his first name, and starts taking attendance. 

“Feel free not to show up for the rest of the quarter, I only do this to try and learn your names.” He flashes a smile and feels the entire room breathe a collective sigh of relief. Even in the massive lecture hall, he tries to make eye contact with each student as he reads off their name. Most of the kids in this class are young, nervous about being on campus, and terrified about their field of study. He reaches the end of his list and nods to himself. Only seven people didn’t bother to show up on time, five of them will probably disappear off his roster by the end of the week. He taps his pen on his desk and shrugs. “Alright then, let’s get started.” 

He’s just pulling up his first slide when one of the doors at the top of the hall slams open. Shiro turns toward the sound smoothly, still trying to look welcoming as he picks up his roster again. “Always one straggler, what’s your name?” He expects some kind of bashfulness about being late, but when he glances up at the kid, he doesn’t find any.

He doesn’t even bother to look at his professor as he scopes out the last available seat in the back row. He doesn’t appear to be flushed from running across campus or look rumpled from missing his alarm. Shiro bites the inside of his cheek and reminds himself to reserve judgements about students that won’t care. 

“Oh,” the kid seems to remember that he’s being addressed and glances at Shiro as he sits. “Keith Kogane.” 

Shiro nods to himself, marks his name and turns back to his presentation. “Alright, as I was saying. Welcome to Introduction to Aerospace and Design.” He clicks through the first portion of his presentation easily, explaining what his students should expect from class and fielding questions as he goes. The second part is less enjoyable, as he instructs his students to pull up the syllabus and read through it with him. It becomes immediately clear which students check out and which stay focused on the material, highlighting the grading system and asking questions about the midterm.

He doesn’t mean to pick on the kids who aren’t paying attention, but he calls them out from the roster accidentally. He asks random things from the last section, trying to make sure his policies make sense. Shiro can’t really resist calling on Keith after a while. “Kogane!” he speaks a little louder to make it to the back and Keith’s eyes focus on him. Even from far away his gaze is sharp, and Shiro can’t help a little smile. “Late work policy?”

The kid looks bored. And Shiro really doesn’t expect the correct answer out of his mouth. “Turn it in on time or not at all,” he speaks confidently, using Shiro’s exact wording without even looking away from his face. Shiro nods, pleasantly surprised, and continues. 

The rest of the class moves quickly and he manages to finish early and give plenty of time for introductions. A group of ten students gather around his desk. Shiro greets each of them individually. Handshakes go easy until a kid named Lance sticks out his right hand. Shiro lifts his prosthetic and tries not to laugh as the boy goes white and hurriedly switches to his left. After confirming his office hours a few dozen times, they scatter. He’s packing up his stuff as he realizes there’s another student at his desk. It’s Keith. Shiro attempts to hide his surprise. “Hello.”

Keith sticks out his right hand. “Thought I’d introduce myself formally. I’m Keith.” He doesn’t offer any excuse for being late, and Shiro feels begrudging respect in his chest.

He shakes Keith’s hand and feels that respect bloom a bit bigger when Keith barely blinks at the soft whirring of his mechanical fingers working. “Nice to meet you.” He continues packing up his stuff, but Keith clears his throat. Shiro turns back toward him and nearly drops his laptop at how close Keith is standing.

The student doesn’t seem to notice as he glances at a note on the back of his hand. Shiro finds himself staring at how his lashes fan out over his cheeks, and he makes a concerted effort to focus on Keith’s question instead.

“Can we make appointments outside of your office hours? I work those afternoons, but I have a feeling I’ll be asking you a lot of questions.”

Shiro blinks. If that line had been delivered in any other way, Shiro would assume Keith was trying to flirt. But, he gives it in the same bored, deadpan way he’s said everything. “Yeah, sure. Just email me and we can figure something out.” He offers a tight smile and quickly finishes packing up the rest of his things.

“Great. I’ll talk to you soon, teach.” He scribbles one last thing on the back of his hand and flashes a smile before taking the stairs up to the door two at a time. Shiro watches him go and then blinks. 

The conversation comes back into focus and he sits back down in his chair. “God, what the hell.” He pushes his hair out of his face and lets loose a little laugh. There’s no way a student on the first day would try and  _ flirt _ with him. “Get your head outta the gutter, Takashi,” he mutters to himself as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

“The quarter’s barely started and you’re already talking to yourself?” Shiro looks up to see Matt sauntering into his classroom, holding two coffees.

He grins a little sheepishly and accepts his americano. “Can’t help being crazy.” Matt snorts at him as they climb the stairs out of the lecture hall.

“Allura wants to do drinks tonight, you in?” Matt gives him a side eye that means he’ll definitely never live it down if he bails.

“Sure. But if we see any students it's on you.” Matt laughs and claps him on the shoulder before they part ways. Shiro manages to not think about Keith for the rest of the day.

~

Shiro keeps Keith out of his head and settles into a fresh quarter. He learns the dynamic of his classes and enjoys his students. All while he desperately tries to not pay special attention to Keith. He makes it difficult. He never turns in homework, routinely shows up to class late, but always manages to ace his quizzes. Shiro struggles to keep his eyes off of him, tries not to stroke the kid’s ego in the middle of class. But, well, that’s his job. Picking out of the crowd the kids that deserve grants, competitive programs--special attention. If only that were the kind of special attention he pays toward Keith.

Instead, he’s watching how Keith slowly starts to move his designated seat to the front of the class. He leans forward whenever Shiro calls on him, eyes glimmering as he delivers whatever answer Shiro wants with that silver tongue. He’s addicting--and even worse, he knows it.

Shiro assigns the first group project three weeks into the quarter. He makes his own groups to save his students the pain of figuring it out themselves and fields the mandatory questions about trying to do it alone. He should have expected someone to complain about Keith by the time the project is finished, but his three group mates showing up during Shiro’s office hours within a week is surprising.

He shuts his laptop and leans back in his chair as they fidget in front of his desk. It seems clear that the beanpole of a kid dragged the other two in there. He’s practically bursting with the need to tattle. 

“What can I do for you, Lance?” 

He looks a bit perturbed with being called out, but it doesn’t temper his outburst. His cheeks go a little red, before he finally spits out, “Keith is an awful groupmate.” Shiro strangles the smile off his face and quirks his brow. Pidge--as Shiro was angrily told to call her on the first day--sighs, looking thirty years older than a college freshman. 

“You have to do something about him!” Lance exclaims, his voice breaking comically.

Shiro crosses his arms over his chest. “All three of you are adults, you should talk to him about it.” At that, the biggest of the three opens his mouth. Lance bulldozes over him.

“Well! You’re more of an adult than us. He won’t fuc--”

Pidge elbows him hard in the side and grabs him by the back of his sweatshirt. “Sorry for the disturbance, professor. We’ll handle it.” She then drags Lance out of his office, Hunk trailing behind the pair with a weak wave. Shiro laughs to his empty office before returning to his grading. It’s then that he notices they’re the only group that’s finished and turned in the work. He flicks through their PowerPoint and adjoining paper--both clearly done by Keith with no help from his group mates. Shiro bites his cheek and tries to not be too impressed.

In the end, he gives the whole group a ninety.

~

It becomes difficult to think of Keith after the first few weeks of the quarter. He manages to make even more work for himself after how high the scores were on his pop quizzes. Shiro decides to rewrite the midterm for these exceptionally bright students. Both Allura and Matt call him a hard ass for wanting to make the first exam harder for his students, but he ignores them. His kids are smart and he’ll curve it if he has to. 

He’s about halfway through changing the test on a Wednesday, when someone knocks on his open door.He glances up to find Keith leaning against the doorframe and looking like a wet dream. Shiro blinks and looks back to his laptop immediately, forgetting to even greet his student. It’s difficult to think straight when he’s dressed like that. 

“How you doin, Shiro?” he asks before Shiro can form a greeting. Shiro realizes he’s going to have to find a way to look at Keith without feeling like a predator. He glances back at him, consciously keeping his eyes on Keith’s face instead of his tiny waist or his thighs gripped in tight denim.

He clears his throat. “I’m fine, Keith.” He fails to sound convincing even in his own ears. Keith’s hips sway as he steps closer to Shiro’s desk, smirking all the way. He slouches low into the well worn, cushy chair in front of Shiro’s desk. He stares at Shiro, eyes full of an unspoken challenge. “What can I do for you?” Shiro finally says, voice clipped with the effort of not looking at Keith’s shirt. Specifically, his plush chest through that ratty, practically translucent t-shirt.

“I have a few questions for you. About the homework for this week.” Shiro narrows his eyes. He knows a seduction plot when he sees one, especially when Keith never turns in his homework. Or shows up to class looking like that.

Shiro decides not to ask. “Alright, lay it on me.” He flashes his most comforting--professional--smile as Keith stands to offer him a beat up spiral notebook. Shiro clenches his jaw and pointedly does not look at how his slouchy little shirt falls open as he leans over. Or at how his long fingers spread over the desk to brace himself, nails painted black. The notebook lands in front of him and Shiro practically pounces on it, grateful to have something to do. 

He scans the scribbled formulas and calculations. Even without having turned anything in, Keith’s work here is immaculate. His handwriting leaves something to be desired, but it’s clear that there isn’t anything wrong with his work. Shiro opens his mouth to tell his student as such, but Keith reaches over to point at something specifically. He has to lean even closer to Shiro to reach. Shiro takes a deep breath and realizes he can smell Keith, all spice and sandalwood. Shiro’s head spins. 

“What about that one?” Keith’s voice is low and husky as he points to a question that Shiro already knows is correct. He drops the notebook like he’s been burned, and Keith’s hand hangs in the space between them as Shiro’s gaze snaps up to him. His eyes are half lidded, mouth pulled into a triumphant smirk that makes Shiro want to do, horrible, predatory--

“Everything looks great to me,” he says in a tight, clipped voice. He’s pretty sure that Keith’s mischievous grin only gets bigger, then, but in that moment all he wants is to get this student out of his office. He stands and gestures for the door in a clear dismissal. Keith ignores it, his hand still hanging awkwardly between them. His big, luminous eyes drag over Shiro’s body--so obvious that Shiro can practically taste his desire. Something sweeter than sandalwood.

He blinks and the look is gone, Keith’s hand is back at his side and he’s grinning--sweet and easy. “Great. Thanks, professor!” He grabs his things and then he’s gone, closing the door behind him as if knowing that Shiro wouldn’t be interested in seeing any other students after that. He slumps back into his chair with a sigh and scrubs his hand across his face

~

Three hours later, he hasn’t stopped replaying the entire interaction in his head. At least there’s booze in his system, two empty shot glasses on the table to prove it. He’s nursing his third drink, forehead pressed against the palm of his prosthetic as he examines the interaction for the nth time. “I can’t believe he did that!” He exclaims suddenly. The outburst doesn’t manage to startle Allura, sitting across from him. She hasn’t even finished her first martini.

“Relax,” she says mildly.

“You sound like Matt,” Shiro replies miserably and gulps down more of his local IPA. “There’s a reason why I asked you for advice, and not him.”

She looks up from her drink and tilts her head at him. “Just do what you always do. Ignore it, and it’ll go away.” Shiro purses his lips and watches her take a sip of her drink. They’re sitting a fair distance away from each other in the booth, and Allura keeps checking out enough of the pretty patrons to make it clear that they aren’t here together. He wants to snap at her to stop trying to get laid, but she looks away from her newest target fast enough. “C’mon, it's puppy love. You need to calm down.” She gives a pointed look at his drink and then across the bar at a pretty young thing looking over his shoulder at him.

He has dark hair and for an overwhelming moment, he thinks it's Keith. Allura doesn’t notice, too busy receiving a drink that she didn’t order from a waiter. “From the pretty girl at the bar.” Allura spots her immediately, mouth pulling into a smirk as she picks up her fresh glass.

“Have some fun, Shiro, seriously.” She pats him on the shoulder and saunters over to her next lay. Shiro sips at his beer. All of them field inappropriate crushes from time to time--him probably more than most--and they always fizzle with a lack of attention. As he gulps the last of his drink and glances back at the boy he mistook for his student, he can’t help but think that this won’t end up being so simple.

~

Keith emails him a few days later. He’s perfectly professional this time as he tries to schedule a meeting to go over the midterm. Shiro swallows his worry about being alone in a room with him again, and agrees to a meeting the following afternoon. He shows up in jeans and a massive hoodie, looking tired and ruffled with stress. He greets Shiro with his first name, but none of the flippant desire he’d used only days earlier.

He’s like a different person and Shiro feels utterly ridiculous that he ever worried about somehow giving Keith the wrong idea. His student combs through the study guide Shiro had given out two days prior, asking good questions and noting Shiro’s helpful but occasionally obtuse answers. Even before Keith started taking his pen to the paper in front of Shiro, the guide was heavily marked with a few different highlighters and Keith’s signature scrawl.

By the end of their hour long meeting, Keith looks a little less overwhelmed with everything. “Feel good about it?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah,” Keith says around a laugh. He shoves his papers back into his bag and hoists it over his shoulder. “I gotta run. Picked up another shift at work, but thanks for the help.” Shiro nods and waves. Keith closes the door behind him and Shiro realizes that he might be faced with one of the smartest students in the freshman cohort. When it came down to it, Keith never tried anything when it came to his grades. Shiro huffs a little laugh at his own expense and returns to his work.

~

Keith is the first to finish the midterm, even though Shiro isn’t watching him. He aces the multiple choice and--somehow--Shiro looks forward to reading his long answers in the midst of his upcoming slog of grading.

~

He’s nearly done with grading by the Saturday after the midterm. It’s a bit past nine when he leans away from his laptop and calls it a night. His eyes ache deep into his head after staring at his computer for hours. He never feels older than when grading online tests. With a sigh he rubs his temples and gets up from his couch. Even with this bone deep exhaustion tugging on him, he feels restless and jonesing for something that he can’t quite name. He rolls his shoulders as he paces around his dark apartment for a second, debating with himself until he grabs his jacket and keys.

The bar he drives to is straddled between the campus and the city, even though no one up the road would bother to make it out here. Usually, it’s packed with townies and some of his coworkers looking to score, but it’s always a bit of a gamble whether or not he’ll see a student. But he’s not in the mood for clubbing up in the city, the grimy gay bar will have to do.

He pulls into the gravel lot and kills the engine. He thinks about having a smoke before going in, but decides he needs a whiskey more than anything. He steps inside and the bar is as busy as he expected, packed with sweaty bodies and booths filled to the brim with tipsy, pretty boys. Shiro swallows and turns to flag down the bartender. It’s easy enough, even with a busy counter. He’s become somewhat of a regular here and he recognizes the kid serving. A glass of whiskey slots into his palm and he lifts it to a quick cheers before sliding into the closest empty booth.

His headache dissolves with his first drink. The music thumps loud in his ears, a strange kind of comfort after hours in silence. He sips his drink slowly and scans the crowd in a way that he hopes is inconspicuous. The makeshift dance floor is small, but busy. Shiro watches the crowd shift as he finishes his first drink. 

He’s waiting for another when he spots someone to take home. He orders distractedly, trying not to lose the boy in the crowd. He’s slim and smooth skinned, wearing a tight little mesh top and pants that look practically painted on. Shiro can only see the back of him, but he stares all the same. Lust pulsing in his gut as he watches the boy carve out a little space for himself in the crowd. He dances with a kind of joyful ease that pulls Shiro in. Every other man in the bar seems to be staring too.

Shiro’s second drink arrives and he downs the first half in a single gulp. A little liquid courage never hurt anybody. He’s about to finish the whiskey and stand, when the boy who captured his attention twists. 

Shiro slumps back into the booth, practically knocked on his ass by the fact that the boy he was so happily checking out is _ Keith _ \--his bright, brilliant student. This is the moment where he should look away. He should finish his drink and leave. Or at least, look away from where Keith is moving like that. He has no business staring at a student like he’s ready to devour him. But he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead he watches Keith shift out of the throng on the dance floor, flicking his damp, shaggy hair off his forehead as he moves toward the bar.

Even off the dancefloor, his step has a little bounce in it, a half dance full of confidence and charm. Shiro blinks and realizes that nearly every man in the bar is watching him, waiting to get their turn. He swallows and tightens his hand around his glass. This Keith is like nothing he’s ever seen before. He’s confident and grinning, high on dancing adrenaline as he slots into the bar and waves down the server. His dark eyes are lined and his cheeks flushed. If Shiro stares long enough, he can see the glitter smeared across the high points of his face and shimmering on his arms.

He’s intoxicating, now more than ever, and Shiro can’t even imagine doing what’s right. For the moment, he isn’t a professor--Keith’s professor--he’s just a man. The kid beside Keith pays for his drink and Keith lingers. He laughs at a shitty joke and lays a hand on his shoulder, giving him just enough attention to get away with his free rum and Coke. He crosses the room, skirting the dance floor as he toys with his straw. Shiro tracks his line of sight and finds an older man tucked into the corner of the room. Their eyes are locked together, heat pooling between them as Keith tries playing coy.

His entire body tenses as he watches Keith flirt with this other man. Something crunches and Shiro’s attention shifts to the glass in his hand. Spiderweb cracks are forming across the surface and he curses. He forces himself to relax and carefully focuses on flexing each of the fingers of his prosthetic. When he looks back to Keith, he isn’t looking at the other man. Instead, he’s staring at Shiro.

Keith’s surprise melts in a moment, his body pivoting away from the corner of the club and toward Shiro’s table. He feels locked in place, Keith’s eyes burning into him as he catches his straw with his tongue and finally takes a sip. He sets his drink down next to Shiro’s nearly shattered glass and Shiro can’t even open his mouth before Keith is in his lap. He curls both hands around the lip of the table, preserving some self control as Keith laces his arms around his neck. He bends close to Shiro’s ear. “Funny seeing you here, professor.”

Shiro is a weak, weak man for how those silky words stroke over his skin and hook into his veins. “Keith.” He tries, but his voice is shivery. Keith just laughs at him, his little fingers curling into the fine hair at the nape of Shiro’s neck. 

He pulls hard and Shiro gasps. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Shiro.” Keith’s breath fans over his cheek, hot and damp. He grits his teeth. A few words and a warm body against him is enough to make Shiro’s cock thicken in his pants. Keith’s hips are still hovering above his and Shiro nearly grabs his waist before he can sit down. But clamping his hands around his slim middle surely won’t help the situation in his pants.

Keith slides against him. There’s a softness at his chest where he presses against Shiro. Between his legs, there’s only heat and no bulge. “Oh,” Shiro says. It’s barely a whisper of a sound, but Keith somehow manages to catch it.

He’s laughing at Shiro again, pulling on his hair hard enough to make his eyes start watering. “Did you not know?” He pulls his face out of the side of Shiro’s neck and he suddenly feels compelled to look up at him. Seeing him this close is almost painful. His flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, plump lips that pull into a smile--both teasing and fond as he grips at Shiro’s shoulders. “You’re pretty stupid for a professor, you know?” Shiro can’t help but laugh. Despite everything that Shiro should be doing, namely keeping his student out of his lap, some part of him knows that they’ve been heading this way for a long while. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Shiro says. It’s the easiest thing to say when there’s alcohol on Keith’s eighteen year old breath. Keith only rolls his eyes though, hips shifting back and forth in Shiro’s lap. “All these men…” He trails off. He’s really no better than any of them. He’s just the one that actually got Keith into his lap. Keith huffs and grabs his wrists, forcing them the last bit of the way and onto Keith’s body. 

His skin is almost scalding, but Shiro can’t imagine pulling away. Keith arches into him, nails curled into his shoulders as he shoves his chest up toward Shiro’s face. “Jesus, Keith,” he murmurs. He pushes his thumbs up and under that tiny little mesh thing, beneath the opaque fabric that obscures Keith’s chest. It’s a tiny touch, but Shiro can feel how soft he is there and suddenly he wants to rip all the fabric off of him and take him over the table. He drags his hands down as if Keith’s wide hips are any safer for him.

“Touch me, Shiro, c’mon,” Keith huffs. Shiro shakes his head, eyes raking over Keith’s body before landing on where they’re pressed together. “God damn, you’re stubborn.” Keith grabs him again, guiding Shiro’s hand between his legs. Shiro groans, weakly trying to pull away as his head tips back. Keith holds onto him, guiding his fingers to probe against the seam of his pants. “Can you feel it?” Keith murmurs. Shiro sucks in a ragged breath, dizzied and wanting as his fingers rub through Keith’s folds at his own will.

Keith hooks an arm around the back of his neck, crushing them together. His teeth score at Shiro’s ear lobe and once he realizes that he doesn’t have to hold Shiro’s hand between his legs, he shifts to cup his bulge. “I’m so wet for you.” His lips move against Shiro’s ear as he rubs at Shiro’s cock. He can’t help but groan, fingers stroking back toward the apex of his cunt. “You have no idea…” Keith trails off and his head tips forward for a moment. He laughs then. “I get so wet for you during class.” Shiro’s cock throbs and he resists the urge to sink his teeth into Keith and never let him go. 

“Your voice, fuck--” He rocks in Shiro’s lap, hand tightening around his bulge. “Your voice... I always have to go home after class and jerk off. Think about you talkin’ me off.” The air between them is damp and heavy with arousal. Shiro’s thumb finds the length of Keith’s clit through his pants and he rubs at it hard. Keith arches into the touch for a moment, lifting his devilish little mouth away from Shiro’s ear as he throws his head back. Shiro watches him suck his bottom lip into his mouth and bounce in his lap like he’s riding cock. It’s exquisite.

“Keith…” It’s barely a whisper but Keith’s thighs shiver on either side of his hips all the same.

His hand snaps down and grabs Shiro’s wrist again. “You’re gonna make me cum,” he murmurs as he pulls Shiro’s working fingers away. He blinks and everything in that moment comes back into sharp focus. The buzz leaks out of his veins and the noise of the club overwhelms everything again. Keith leans back into him, giggling a little bit as he whispers, “C’mon. You should fuck me in the bathroom.”

Shiro grimaces and shakes his head. Keith’s about to open his mouth and needle a little more when Shiro grabs him around the waist. “We can’t. I shouldn’t… It’s my fault that it got this far.” It’s easy enough to pick Keith up and slide him to the side in the booth. His student stares at him slack jawed and Shiro pointedly refuses to look at him as he tugs a few bills out of his wallet and drops them between their glasses. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a second. “I’m sorry,” he says and turns toward the door before he can catch Keith’s reaction.

He peels out of the parking lot in record time, hands shaking on the steering wheel as he drives back toward campus and his apartment. He has some desperate hope that he’ll simply be able to forget those images of Keith, but they persist. The heat of his breath and the shape of his body where it pressed against Shiro. When he parks and enters his building with his cock still aching, he promises himself that he won’t deal with the issue like he wants to. A cold shower and then straight to bed.

He’s still promising himself this when he unlocks his door and enters his dark apartment. He walks toward his bedroom, ready to strip and shove his dirty clothes into the bottom of the hamper. When he lifts his fingers to try the buttons on his shirt, that willfulness melts away. His fingers smell like Keith. Like Keith’s desire, sweet and musky and hot. Shiro staggers with how the lust hits him. He leans against his mattress and groans, lifting his fingers close to his nose and it’s over. He collapses onto the bed, prosthetic fingers misfiring and curling tight in the sheets as he huffs in the traces of Keith’s cunt still left on him. His hips grind into the mattress, his boxers damp over the head of his cock where it presses up against his belly.

His mind flashes through images of Keith then and he has no hope of batting them away. The weight of him in his lap and the pout of his lips, that earnest desperation and the ease with which they spoke in those quieter moments. He groans and shoves those fingers that had stroked against Keith into his mouth. The taste might as well be a figment of his imagination, but it's enough. His hips rut forward and he spills into his briefs, groaning some strangled version of Keith’s name as he pants.

He’s too exhausted for the guilt to really hit. He drags his spit slick fingers out of his mouth and wipes them on his shirt. He goes through with the cold shower anyway, wiping away the evidence of what he’d just done and chilling him to the bone. When he’s kept awake by thoughts of Keith until the early morning, he decides to cancel all his Monday classes. 


End file.
